


Closing In

by infinitumetultra



Series: Chop and Change [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Death, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Scrabble obsessions, Smut, UST, brief non-graphic violence, very minor character death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitumetultra/pseuds/infinitumetultra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That day was one of the more surreal ones in her life. Explosions, killing people, her boss seeing her mostly naked, and oh, did she mention she killed a person?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hope That You Make It

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts for this one (Darcy Lewis Smut Week) were gaze, silhouette, and lingerie. Once again, sorry about the wait!

The ringing in her ears drowned out everything around her, but the faint thud of gunfire vibrated throughout her body. It was difficult to breathe, and one of the lenses in her glasses was completely ruined – and the smoke floating around didn't do anything to help her vision. Darcy pulled herself up from the ground, and reached for her gun. Blinking rapidly, she tried to make out the shapes moving around her and kept trying to find Phil who had been right next to her when shit hit the fan before she blacked out.  
It was surprisingly easy to make out SHIELD agents from AIM infiltrators. The meeting they had interrupted was diplomatic, and no one expected it to turn sour – her colleagues were all dressed in suits and AIM agents had on bulkier gear. She still wasn't sure she trusted her ability to shoot, however with only one eye being able to focus.

“Darcy!”

She jolted, turning to her left towards the sound. Phil flipped someone over his shoulder before making his way over to her, and as he moved a figure behind him revealed themself. Darcy reacted so quickly she couldn't quite process what she yelled, but she knew she did because he ducked, she fired her gun and the body behind him fell to the ground. The sound was back full force and the gunfire was dying down, more of the smoke was clearing, and she saw more suits popping up and more geared agents falling. Someone grabbed her forearm and she went to hit them with the butt of her gun – but that arm was caught too.

“Darcy!” His voice was loud and commanding, not calm and steady as usual. But it was him and he looked mostly unharmed – his suit was singed and ruined, he was covered in soot but he was alive. “It's me. It's okay.”

  
She blinked a couple of times trying to see if she could make out anything wrong with him. “You alright?”

  
“Yes.” Phil responded shortly and she could barely track his eyes taking her in, accounting for injuries. He was full out frowning, his face looking tight with his jaw clenched.

  
“Can't see,” she said, and blinked a few times.

He nodded once and grabbed one of her hands, leading her through the rubble. Still on guard, his eyes tracked every movement as they moved towards the exit. Darcy's eyes trained on bodies on the ground, and it caused her to stumble over bits of the walls and broken furniture but Phil kept her hand firmly in his and moved along anyway. She didn't realize how difficult it was to breathe until they made it outside.

Police were already taping off the area, working with SHIELD response teams to keep bypassers from crowding in. One of the SHIELD agents immediately moved towards Phil and started hounding him with questions, and he answered but was moving towards a hastily set up paramedic unit. He sat Darcy down and someone covered her with a shock blanket, and started asking her questions – but she just frowned.

“I'll be back. Stay here until I come to get you.” Coulson said and then walked away.

  
“Ma'am?” The paramedic asked her. “Do you know your name?”

  
“Darcy.” She responded. “Was I really in there?”

Her eyes were trained on the building, smoke leaking out of broken windows and crumbling foundations. It looked terrible, and it had been terrible inside – she knew that much but it didn't look like anyone could survive that from an outside point of view. More people were being carried out or limping out.

“Yeah,” came the responding voice. “But you're gonna be okay. My name's Marcel, I've got a couple more questions for you.”

Darcy answered the questions with one word answers, mostly watching people leave the rubble that was once a whole building. She had a headache and she wasn't sure if it was because she hit the wall when the explosion went off or because only one lense of her glasses were still functioning and half of her vision was mostly a blur. After his questions, Marcel carefully looked her over for other injuries.

“Well, you got lucky, Darcy.”

  
She just stared at him.

  
“You're gonna have some swelling and bruising,” he trailed off for a moment eyeing a gash on her shoulder before reaching for antisceptic, “maybe a few cuts to keep clean... but nothing's broken and you won't need stitches.”

  
Darcy nodded, willing herself to force a small smile on her face. “No concussion?”

  
“Don't think so, just a little shaken,” he said.

  
“Yeah. Thanks. Uh, I'll hang out here... somebody else probably needs you more than I do.”

  
Marcel looked around and nodded in agreement. “Get home if you can. Ice for the swelling and keep those cuts cleaned and covered.”

  
“You got it, Doc.”

Darcy sat and tried to wrap her head around what had happened. It was less terrifying than the Destroyer, regardless of the fact she acquired more injuries. Sitwell walked by and offered her a half-smile, sporting a bandage on his head and glasses that matched hers with a broken lense. After he passed she took hers off and blinked a couple of times, eyes narrowing to try and see things clearer as they moved farther away.

“All clear?”

  
Darcy's head whipped to face him so fast she felt her neck crack. It was only Phil, and she sighed quickly before snapping, “Fuck's sake! Don't do that! You've done that twice today already!”

  
“I'm sorry.”

  
“Seriously, I almost killed you last time!”

  
“That's a bit of an overstatement.” Phil said back with a well-meaning smile, but his forehead still wrinkled like he was worried.

  
Darcy frowned at him and stood. “Can we go home now?”

  
“You can,” Phil nodded. “I've already got someone to take you back to the tower.”

  
Her frown just deepened. “What about you?”

  
“I've got work to do.”

  
“Then I do too.” She nodded resolutely.

“Darcy. Go home.”

  
“No. I go home when you go home, boss, that's how this works.” She retorted. “I got off easy. A couple of cuts and bruises – I can stay and help.”

  
Phil didn't glance around when he leaned in closer, but his voice was soft and the concern was more palpable on his face. “You're telling me you don't need a little space after you shot and killed a man for the first time today?” He winced ever so slightly when she looked to the ground, regretting the bluntness of his words. “You're not a 'super secret spy person.'”

She was almost angry with him for spouting those words back at her. Darcy had come far, and she had done what needed to be done. If it wasn't that AIM agent that had been shot it would have been Phil or maybe her, and after that he might have gotten someone else. Even with her vision all fucked up she managed to get shit done – but that was different than getting your mandatory hours for the week in at the range and it was different than mandatory hand-to-hand practice. All Darcy could think about was that she had shot that man, and he went down – he was dead. A couple of her colleagues were probably dead as well, and so were the majority of the stupid fucking AIM agents who had to ruin that diplomatic meeting.

Darcy swallowed hard and fixed Phil with a hard, determined gaze. “No. But you have work to do... which means I have work to do. So.” Her voice only broke a little.

 

Phil seemed to be battling with himself, he ducked his head just before he straightened up and nodded once. They moved around and Phil did a lot of debriefing of those he could, confirmed the restraint of a couple of AIM agents who weren't too badly hurt to be interrogated, and made notes of their own who made it out one piece, or otherwise. Darcy wasn't really assigned to do much and she wondered if he really didn't have anything for her to do or if he was trying to both respect and undermine her wishes at the same time. She found things to do, regardless, like taking a steno pad from inside one of the SHIELD cars and talking to agents and some of the paramedics.

She even spoke to Marcel again, and he told her to get home too but answered her questions anyway. After him, she walked back over to Coulson who was standing with Sitwell by one of the SUV's, both of them on their cell phones and talking to the same person. Hill and Fury she guessed. Coulson glanced over to her and she shook the steno pad at him with a tiny smile, but he just went back to his conversation and she leaned against the car.

Coulson opened the door without breaking his conversation with the Director, and his only way of communicating with her was to make sure she was meeting his gaze and then glance towards the open door. Sighing she climbed in before he and Sitwell moved to stand before her, Coulson held out his hand and she gave him the steno pad. Flipping through it, he only paused twice to give Fury some of her notes but the conversation was over soon after.

“Forensics will be here to take a look at the scene in ten minutes.” Coulson said, probably for Darcy's benefit since Sitwell had been in on the phone conversation.

“Another supervising agent will be with them.”

  
“That means we can all go home, right?”

  
“Yup.” Sitwell said. “Everyone who was inside is already on their merry way... unless they went in ambulence...”

  
“Not so merry.” Darcy said dryly.

  
“Not at all.”

  
Darcy chewed on her lip before asking. “How many casualties?”

  
Sitwell glanced at Coulson, before looking back to her. “So far: twenty-three AIM affiliates, one of the plenipotentiaries and three of ours.”

  
She sighed in response, paused and then narrowed her eyes at him. “Plenipotentiaries?”

  
“At least twenty-one points, not including double or triple word scores and a fifty point bonus for using all seven tiles.” Sitwell smiled.

  
“Scrabble freak.” Darcy mutered, but smiled just a little.

They waited for a few more minutes, Coulson and Sitwell had a short conversation with one Agent Allen (the now acting supervisor for the incident) before they left. Sitwell went to wherever it was that he went at the end of the day (Darcy still didn't know that much about him despite how close they had been working) and Phil climbed in next to Darcy. He was still in Agent Coulson mode, somehow not looking any less put together despite the state of his suit and the dirt on his face. The adrenaline had worn off and Darcy felt the aching set in.

“I'm gonna take a long hot bath when we get home,” she murmured.

He looked over to her but didn't respond. When they finally dragged themselves through the lobby of Stark Tower, the security guard at the desk had nothing to offer them but a raised eyebrow. JARVIS agreed to get a bath started for Darcy right away, and the elevator ride was quiet after that. On the way into the apartment she winced as she set her gun down on the counter and left it completely behind as she went straight for her room.

Shedding clothes as she went, she winced and hissed, heading towards the bathroom. Slowly she eased herself into the water and groaned. It was too hot but it felt so nice and she couldn't help but make the obscene noise. When she opened her eyes she made another noise, one less of relief and more of disgust. 'A shower before hand would have been a better idea,' she thought as she watched the water turn dingy from all the dirt and soot she had been covered in.

She made due with it, having to drain the tub at least twice while she rinsed out her hair and washed her skin with still shaking hands. Darcy ignored how grimy she still felt, her skin was clean but she still felt like she had to scrub herself down. After washing up she sat there in the tub for a long time, at first she could only think of how badly her body ached and the vague feeling of nausea bothering her but it didn't take long for her to zone out completely.

As badly as she wanted to remember the whole situation only bits and pieces were really solid in her mind. One part she could remember was Phil dropping out of site just before she felt the kick from her gun and the man behind him falling to the ground. She couldn't see his face, or hear him grunt or even know if he was actually a HE and not a she and something nagged at her for those reasons. They were a person, a person she knew nothing about yet had played a big part in their life... or rather a big part in ending it.

“Darcy?”

  
She flinched and looked over to find Phil standing in the bathroom. He was looking at the far wall, eyes unwavering but she still brought her knees closer to her chest and frowned at him. “What the hell, Phil? Three times in one fucking day?”

  
“I knocked,” he said, “JARVIS tried to get your attention too but you weren't responding.”

There was something awkward and vulnerable about the way he was standing, changed out of his suit and in sweatpants and bland gray t-shirt. He was clean now and had an already purpling bruise on his arm along with a cut on his lip and she felt bad that she hadn't even asked him how he was doing. Phil was ready for light duty and could almost do everything he used to do in the field but not quite – healing took a lot of time. It was weird few minutes where Phil just stood there staring at the wall, and Darcy sat there staring at him.

“You need to ice a lot of those bruises. They're going to swell.”

Darcy looked down at her legs which had a couple of yellowing spots, and her left side was already almost purple and she sighed knowing he was right. Several places of her body needed to be tended to still and the thought of getting up just made her tired. That day was one of the more surreal ones in her life. Explosions, killing people, her boss seeing her mostly naked, and oh, did she mention she killed a person? Closing her eyes she curled even farther in on herself, a lump forming in her throat.

“I made coffee. I'll be in the living room when you're --”

  
“Don't go.” She should have been embarassed by the way her voice cracked and how tiny it sounded while she hid her face – she wasn't even sure he heard her – but she just knew it had been a relief to see him alive and how relieved she had been that he ducked before she took the shot.

  
“Get out of the tub and we can --”

  
“I don't want to get out of the tub yet, Phil, and I don't want you to go.”

Despite the fact that she was crying, her tone was stubborn and she heard him sigh just a little bit. It was quiet for a while and she thought he might have just left her but when she peeked out, he was sitting and leaning against the tub with his back to her. Darcy swallowed hard and took a deep shuddering breath, trying to get herself together again.

“I was fine earlier,” she said.

  
“The shock handn't worn off.” He told her quietly.

  
“Is it gonna be like this every time?”

  
“You'll... get used to it.”

  
“Why is this harder than Puento Antiguo?”

  
“Darce, you couldn't see this one coming,” he turned his head a little. “You didn't have four Asguardians to fight for you. You had to shoot the gun yourself.”

  
“I'm glad you ducked.” Darcy said quietly.

  
“Me too,” he said, and she could tell he was smiling just a little.

The water sloshed as she moved close enough that she could rest her forehead on his shoulder. There was a beat before she felt his head rest against hers. After a few minutes of fighting down the tears again, she slowly lifted herself out of the bathtub. Phil was out of the door by the time she wrapped herself up in a towel and she followed behind him in just that. He mumbled something about ice and walked out of her room, and she just laid down on the bed.

When he came back he seemed hesitant but sat next to her on the bed with an ice pack wrapped in a flimsy towel. She moved the towel so she could press it gently against her side, and just like before Phil kept his eyes trained elsewhere looking vaguely uncomfortable. Her free hand came about to gently make him face her as she inspected the cut on his lip.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

  
A simple nod was all she got back.

  
“Seriously?” Darcy inquired.

  
“For a while there the smoke was getting to me – but I'm fine.”

  
She winced a little as she sat up, and adjusted the ice pack as she held it.

  
“If you want to back out...” Phil started slowly. “Now is a good time to --”

  
“Do you think I should?”

  
“This isn't about --”

  
“You're the recruitment expert, Phil, and you're my...” She shook her head, cutting herself off. “I want your opinion, that's all.”

He paused for a long time, and she was holding her breath. She seemed to go over every misstep she had taken and how he had to lead her out of the smoking building. The shock and panic – but she worked through it, that had to be worth something, right? Darcy didn't hesitate when a hostile force pulled out of nowhere and she soldiered through to help debrief. Phil was somewhat of a recruitment expert within SHIELD... if she wasn't a good fit he of all people would know. It didn't really occur to her how much she enjoyed everything else about her job until that moment when she had to wait for his assessment.

“As far as first experiences go, this one was mild,” he said evenly like they were at a meeting and not sitting on her bed, with her only in a towel. “Still, it was a meeting predicted to be entirely peaceful. Everyone was taken off guard. You managed to shoot an enemy agent despite visibility problems and panic. Not to mention the aid you provided to senior agents on the scene with sit-reps.”

  
Darcy felt a rush of relief to her system and raised her eyebrows. “So... I did okay? If I quit it should be because I'm not comfortable being a super secret spy person and not because I suck at it?”

  
Phil smiled a little. “Right.” He nodded once. “I was...very proud of you today.” He frowned. “Worried as hell, but mostly proud.”

Darcy bit her lip to keep from grinning and was leaning upwards before she really realized what she was doing. A kiss on the cheek is what she was aiming for is what she would say if she were to be asked about it later – fuck boundaries and whatever was normal etiquitte at SHIELD. If she wanted to show her boss she cared, she damn well could. Apparently Phil had the same idea (great minds and all that) because he did the same and by awkward chance their lips met.

Neither of them moved for a moment until Darcy followed through with it pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. She was the one to pull away first, slowly with widened eyes and a slight catch in her breath. All of the sudden her stomach was falling through the several floors of Stark Tower because she wanted that to happen again and it probably wouldn't and he was probably about to have an episode of some kind. And to think she believed the most tense part of the day was over.

Phil stopped thinking properly the moment he felt their slip up – her soft, soft lips and that very Darcy smell. Then the sirens went off in his head only to be short circuited again when she gently continued to press her lips against his just before pulling away. What was probably a few seconds felt like so much longer as he tried to get his wits about him and stop arguing with himself. The right thing to do was to leave her alone to tend to her wounds, and put some clothes on. But she wasn't screeching or laughing to get them through an awkward moment – she was looking at him rather expectantly.

So he leaned in to kiss her properly.


	2. Just Try and Stop Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was still too dressed, although she wanted to spend hours memorising his torso, tracing lines and pink scars with her tounge – but she was wearing only her own bruises as lingerie and he still had those damned sweat pants on.

 

The second kiss was more precise, but still tenative. It was all Darcy needed as a signal, however, and the moment he went to pull away she brought him back again. This was bad, very bad, and it was getting much too easy to drown out the voice in the back of Phil's head reminding him over and over again just how troublesome this was. Allowing himself to pine from afar was indulgent, and those moments spent together quietly in their apartment before they would head to seperate beds were just as bad but this was just a disaster waiting to happen.

And Darcy knew that too. She also knew that she wanted exactly this for quite a long time. Too overwhelmed by the fact that he was disregarding whatever bells she knew were ringing in his head, Darcy just let herself take as much of it as she could. Her hands reached out to grab onto his shirt and the ice fell along with her towel. She knew what would happen the moment the kiss broke and he opened his eyes and came down from whatever post-mission high he was on. 

Kissing, kissing, kissing – until she had to gasp for breath, not letting his lips linger too far from hers so she could go back to them. Darcy had always imagined Phil would be precise in everything he did but his tongue matched the volatile pattern of her own, even if his hands hadn't moved from his lap where they were balled into fists. He was holding back, as she would expect, and she felt a pang of guilt. She was being selfish taking the inch he gave her and stretching it as far as she could go. 

Phil was on the verge of losing it, the only thing keeping him from getting his hands all over her was the thought that he was sorely taking advantage. Darcy was strong willed and smart but she was vulnerable and he was shitting all over the trust she was putting in him. Not only was she dealing with an emotional trauma – he was her superior, older than her and not doing anything to put a stop to her pawing at his clothes. None of this was appropriate. Suddenly she pulled away and he took in a deep breath, and hoped she would get her senses back because his were not proving as reliable as he needed them to be. Her hand covered his, and he opened his eyes. She looked wrecked, but with a sweet smile that made his heart clench in his chest.

“If you want to back out, now's a good time to say so.” Darcy said nervously in a soft tone.

 

Phil blinked. He couldn't trust himself not to say something that would either reveal him completely (bad) or break this moment past repairability (somehow worse.) His hands were steady when he reached toward her finally touching her face, gently trailing down her neck and avoiding the bruise on her right side as he pulled her in for more kissing. Darcy's stomach did flip flops.

 

Her hands reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him with only a little difficulty as neither of them wanted to break apart. Darcy climbed into his lap, puttng her hands on his chest and her fingers playing with the dark hair and tenderly tracing the line of the scar that ultimately got them into this mess. Gently, she pushed against him not able to really get him on his back, but strong enough for him to know her intentions. Slowly he leaned backwards, until he felt a sharp cold sensation.

 

“Cold...cold... _cold_ ,” he murmured onto her lips before he broke away and hastily reached to throw the ice pack across the room.

 

Darcy laughed a little and ducked her head, nibbling at his neck until he could finally lay back. Normally she was a very verbal person in bed (most like everywhere else) but this seemed so fragile she was afraid to break it. There was something enchanting about how quiet it was, though. Breaths, movements and small noises of pleasure filling the space around them. He was still too dressed, although she wanted to spend hours memorising his torso, tracing lines and pink scars with her tounge – but she was wearing only her own bruises as lingerie and he still had those damned sweat pants on.

 

Phil helped her slip them off and his breath stuttered when she reached to hold his cock, half-hard in anticipation. She gently pumped her hand before she leaned in to kiss him again. For a moment he was dizzy and content and still in awe that this was happening, then she made a small moan into his mouth and he remembered he wasn't seventeen anymore. Regardless of how staggering Darcy was, or how unabashedly she jumped in, he could be just as brazen.

 

Her hands faltered slightly when he took a breast into his hand, weighing and kneading before running his thumb over a pert nipple. He got a small squeaking sound when he pinched and then tugged gently, her hips rolling slightly. Phil felt a weak groan come from him as he trailed a hand downward, and ran a finger along her slit. Delving between the lips and feeling delicate flesh slippery with arousal, it was Darcy's turn to moan.

 

She remembered day dreams about steady fingers teasing her with meticulous attention and she was not really disappointed by reality. There was a pattern she couldn't quite trace, but her hand wrapped around his cock kept forgetting it had a job to do when he circled her clit with his finger. When the first digit made its way inside of her, she bit the inside of her lip. Darcy loved foreplay, it was one of her favourite things in the world but she loved the idea of actually fucking him more at that moment. Still, she didn't quite have it in her to tell him to stop once he found a pace and added another finger.

 

Phil's body still rippled whenever she had a moment of clarity and continued the now erratic pace of her hand but he couldn't keep his eyes off the way she moved against his hand. Hips rocking, face contorted as she bit her lip and couldn't help but clench her eyes shut. The not so slow build of her breath, now coming in gasps, made her entire body move and suddenly her hand clasped tightly around his wrist. Gently he pulled his hand away, placing it on her thigh, smiling as she opened her eyes and laughed a little sheepishly.

 

Then she was guiding the head of his dick to her entrance, giving him one last look as if asking if it was okay. That was foul play. Even if it wasn't alright, who could honestly deny themselves when they were _that_ close? Phil responded by lifting his hips, pushing into her cunt, groaning lowly as Darcy gasped and leaned into it.

 

“ _Fuck_ , that's good.” She said, arching her back.

 

Darcy was on top, and apparently perfectly okay with taking the reins as she grinded her hips. Her hands placed themselves on his chest and her hair tickled his skin as she ducked her head. His hands firmly placed themselves on her thighs, gripping her tightly. He wanted to grab her by the hips and thrust harshly upwards but the purpling skin on her side reminded him that wasn't an option just then. Maybe next time. Would there be a next time?

 

Now wasn't the time to go back to panic and damage control and 'what's next' thought processes, so he as gently as he could he flipped them over. Darcy winced and hissed a little, to which he murmured quick apologies against her lips and her neck and whatever spots of her skin he could reach with his mouth. There was a breathy chuckle from her that silenced him, especially when she reached around to grab his ass – as if she was trying pull him in deeper.

 

She was going to be the death of him. He was absolutely certain of that. “Darcy...”

She gasped and her hips stuttered, and whatever particular angle they were at was definitely working for her, so he thrust harder grunting with the exertion. Her moans turned into cries that were scattered amongst deep breaths and he could hardly recognize the rough tone of his groaning. Without warning she cried out, her hands flailing a moment before grabbing onto his arms – her entire body drawn taut and her cunt spasmed around him while her hips moved on their own accord. Several words tumbled out his mouth – none of them making a coherent sentence together as his vision whited out momentarily and he harshly thrusted through his orgasm.

 

For a moment it was a battle to keep his arms working and prevent himself from falling on top of her, but he got through it and kissed her before they had time to realize what the fuck had just happened and what they were going to do next. She seemed to have the same idea, since she kissed him back. Lazy, spent kisses but they were kisses none the less. Eventually he rolled off of her, and she sighed as she thought about getting up to clean up.

 

“Promise you won't hate me after I say what I'm about to say next?” Darcy said quietly.

Phil wasn't sure he was ready for a bomb to drop when he was feeling so good. “Promise.” He said anyway.

“My legs feel like _jello_.” Darcy said rolling over and smiling at him with a mix of mirth and uncertainty. “Now I know how you feel about jello but trust me... this is good.”

 

Phil laughed and she gave him a truly confidant grin before snuggling into his chest, pointedly hiding her face. Eventually they found it in them to clean up – mostly silent but not uncomfortable. They fell asleep before either of them had time to truly freak out, and the forgotten ice pack on the floor left damp spot on the floor as it melted.


End file.
